Necessary
by ITheBlaze
Summary: They say there is a price for everything... What price is paid to ease a dead girl's rest? Your sanity?
1. Body

Author's notes: This is a new fic, because I'm having writer's block with After the fall of angels. It's multi-part, but likely won't be too long. Um... Warnings: Dark. Also, can you put up a warning for incomprehensibility? This is mostly just written as it occurs to me.

  
  


Necessary

  


It seems a long time ago now that I first learned about her- My sister, remade into a crude facsimile of her former self, created to rule a city. Until that moment, I never really understood my father's obsession so many years after her death. 

After I first heard the rumors (from my own Marduks, no less!) that my father was regularly having shady dealings with zone ones, I waited, watched and followed.

I followed. And I regret it.

The first time I approached, I couldn't see what they, a stubby man and my father, regarded with such mixed pride and awe. I saw only a nest of machinery intertwined with cables like snakes and shot through with burnished steel. They left, and I went to get a closer look at the tanks suspended at intervals along the walls, one in the center- but I looked to the walls first.

The first tank held what looked like a robotic arm welded to the remains of a human body, torn and ragged fish-belly pale flesh waving and bobbing in the light current of bluish fluid. The rusted claw slowly curled as if seeking escape, caressing the glass with its needled fingertips. I turned away, not reacting. I had seen worse from my days on the streets in the war, or during Marduk duty.

The second tank was... Indecipherable. A tentacled mass of pulsing ooze laced with glowing filaments. It reminded me almost of a squid or a brain, floating ragged in brine, useless tentacles waving. 

But I watched in horrified fascination as a blood-red eye opened slowly, at a seemingly arbitrary place. It was followed by a thousand others until the fleshy creature stared at me, covered with malevolently intelligent eyes. I broke their stare and ran on.

What kind of place had my father been frequenting?

The third tank was empty but for floating metal parts, something for which I was inordinately grateful. I could still feel the thing watching me.

There were only two tanks left now, one tucked away in a corner, the other the place of pride at the center of the room. Walking into dimness, I left the central tank for last.

Things were less kept up in this corner- I stepped over exposed wires and broken, rusted detritus. The Tank's light had broken, and a hairline crack ran up the side. The old glass was yellowed and grimy- impossible to see through but for a murky outline. I wiped away a section with my sleeve, and time stopped.

I think I screamed.

Tima, long-dead Tima, my sister, stared back at me, eyes wide. Her golden hair flowed about her eleven year old body like seaweed, framing the terrible green emptiness in her gaze. She still wore the clothes she'd died in, and I knew if I looked carefully I'd see the ragged bullet hole in her chest, the blood long washed away.

I'd told her not to play with that gun.

She watched me accusingly, and I turned away, feeling trapped and sick, unable to bear it. How could they _do_ this?

I walked numbly to the last tank, with no real interest anymore in what lay inside, only hope for distraction. Nothing could be worse than the previous tank. Nothing.

I was wrong.

The machine, half-complete, small and dainty, stared back at me.

Tima's eyes.

I ran.


	2. Soul

Author's notes: Yes. Dark. Daaaaaark. Beware. And since I forgot it last time, I don't own Metropolis.

  
  


Necessary

  


It took a long time to collect myself, after that. For nearly two days I spoke to no one while turning it over and over in my mind.

Why was she created? I fear- I deeply fear- that she is my replacement. But surely my father cannot have stopped loving me so completely?

Or did he ever love me at all?

I watched and waited, and again he went to that mad scientist's lair. Again and again I followed, and every time the creature was a little more complete and my dead sister stared at me with accusing eyes from her fluid stasis.

I had gotten over my fear- I now sat in front of her for hours on end, watching her gentle swaying and the way her hair swirled. I found myself crying, sometimes, but didn't know why. It was on one of these nighttime visits that I was interrupted- The ugly man creating monsters here walked in, and I hid behind the wires and debris. 

He talked to himself, pulling dials and levers into place, pushing buttons. He did something and the armlike machine extended outwards, grasping my sister's dingy tank behind which I was hidden. It pulled up and the tank came with it, sliding loose. It was slipped into a receptacle by the central tank with a pop and a hiss of steam. I crouched lower, watching.

Wires and cables snaked from the ceiling, slipping into recessed ports. Electricity, strangely black, crackled over both tanks and my sister's body arced back, shivering.

I thought for a moment that she'd come alive again.

But no. Her body falls limp, and the snapping electricity moves on to the creation. With a final blinding flash, the glass encasing Tima shatters, sending fluid spilling across the floor. Her dead weight sprawls on the grated surface. 

I looked up at the man in the strange clothes, the scientist, though he still didn't see me. He ignored the dead girl by his feet and the thin fluid on his shoes, only to concentrate on the thing that wore her face.

Something inside me clenched at the sight of my sister flopped on the floor like a broken doll, her eyes watching me with a slightly stunned expression, limbs askew. I could clearly see the torn hole above her heart from this angle, and the summer dress she wore puddled around her legs.

The scientist looked down. Twiddling a dial, he brought his arm-like construct over and scooped up Tima's limp body before I could react. It moved carelessly to a chute in the wall, dropping her. I caught a glimpse of golden hair-

And she was gone.

I stifled a cry, throwing myself back against the wall. I stayed there in a nest of metal, shivering, until the man left.

I picked my way out, skidding and blind through shock and numbness. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to hurt someone. 

Instead, I stumbled home. The Ziggurat. I dragged myself to the elevators, too tired for the stairs, only having the presence of mind to put on mirrored glasses and complete my emotionless facade.

Afterwards, I sat on my bed and stared at the dark.


	3. Mind

Author notes: Ahem. Still dark, still don't own Metropolis. This story's going to get updated on kind of a whenever-I-feel-like-it basis, which at present is fairly quickly. I am happy because I realized today that on August 11th, My fanfiction.net account will officially be one year old. Happy premature b-day to my account!

Thanks to reviewers Kenichi's Gal (Yay! Chocolate!) and Rocku (Thanks immensely, but now the others will hunt me down and kill me... *hides in a hole* eep...)

  
  


Necessary

  
  


My father announced the first day of official celebrations for the newly-completed Ziggurat this morning. All day, I've seen it repeated again and again on every monitor, giving hope for the future and joy for the present, but Marduks don't get the day off. 

As we patrolled the evening crowds, there were people everywhere. They parted like the red sea before my uniform and blank gaze. The day was remarkably quiet, given the sheer amounts of swarming people- I caught myself envying them for a moment as they lived so carefree and unworried, but then was called off to break up a group of protesters campaigning for robot rights.

Idiots.

Robots were fake, artificial intelligence, if you could call it that. Nothing more than an attempt at creating a human mind in a metal body. It was ironic- people worked so hard to give the things thought and some measure of emotion, then send them to do the work they themselves shun. Though really, I thought cynically, people on the whole weren't very smart either- But I'd take real over artificial any day.

I stopped in the street, unaccountably reminded of my sister. As a distraction I looked up... The Ziggurat loomed over me, lit by spotlights and fireworks sending golden trails through the sky- and I was hit by a sudden wave of foreboding. _Something_ was going to happen here, and for a moment I saw flames reflected in the arched windows.

A lone spotlight began to move, sliding downward- bizarrely, it showed the Marduk emblem. A sudden crackle of static over the radio, and a body fell from the platform. I watched, stunned, as it sailed through the air, rebounding from a car roof, a fatal impact. I heard the crunch and groan of metal, the spattering of shattered glass. I felt sick as I realized I'd just seen someone die.

Then it got up and limped away.

Incomprehension, then suspicion dawned. Suddenly a blinding anger took hold- A robot! I could see the green-painted face clearly now, the red markings of zone one prominent now that I knew to look. I drew my gun, startling the crowd into silence, and fired off a well-aimed shot to the leg, crippling it. Oil spurted from the wound as wires disconnected, and it fell. I saw the creation with my sister's face superimposed there for a moment and fired again, a direct shot between the shoulder blades.

I tucked my gun away, looking down on the thing with a fierce joy and imagining Tima's mechanical twin spread out like this, helpless and dying on the pavement. "You're out of your Zone," I said, and a smirk curved my face. The people stared. 

I didn't care. Let them whisper about the Marduks, a little fear might do them good. I would avenge my sister and make my father see the truth if it was the last thing I did. I promised myself that at the lab a long time ago.

Leaving the body to be picked up by my subordinates, I left to give a report to my father. He would want to know about the incident.

  


The elevator ride was slow, as usual, and though I hid it behind tinted glasses I often had the awful feeling that the car would fall and smash to the ground forty floors below. The glass front and gracefully worked iron grate that passed for doors didn't do much to help the hovering edge of fear.

Seems odd, doesn't it, that someone like me has a phobia of heights? I suppose it's the one fear that Duke Red hasn't yet beat out of me, probably because I've never mentioned it- But my father loves me. I know he does.

I stepped out onto the marble, the tightness in my chest vanishing along with the sight of city and sky spread out below my feet. I stand at the door, for my father has a visitor. I glance sideways at the guards without moving my head, mentally mocking them. The truth is that I both pity and envy them- Pity because they don't actually get to do anything (They're really more decoration than anything else) and Envy because they got to stay near Duke Red all day, something I often wished for as a child but grew out of quickly.

My eyes shift around the room, taking in the rich marble inlays and the immense windows open to the gardens above. My men often refer to it jokingly as the hanging gardens, but I've never quite gotten the reference. I suppose that's what happens growing up in a war- you miss out on a lot of things.

"Tonight, Doctor Laughton," I heard my father say, and I looked forward again, focusing for the first time on my father and the visitor. I just managed to hold back a gasp and a growl of fury at the sight of the squat, shabby man. The scientist. I clench my hands into fists and hide them in my pockets, keeping myself from killing him with my bare hands. 

My fingertips itch for my gun.

Whatever business he had here concluded, the horrible little man slunk out. I scowled at him as he passed, longing to wrap my hands around his throat for what he'd done to my sister, but let him be. The guards, the pitiful guards even noticed his air of uncleanliness, brushing imaginary dirt off immaculate uniforms. I scowled at the guards as well, cursing them for never having to get their hands dirty.

I took off my sunglasses and knocked, announcing myself. "It's Rock," I said, tentative.

Duke Red didn't even face me as I approached, and he lay a framed photograph on his desk. "I heard there was a problem in the main plaza."

I stopped, worried. How can he have known that so quickly? I'd just come to tell him! "Yes," I said, "a robot agitator tried to make trouble."

He still didn't turn, but I could hear the anger in his voice. "I put you in _charge_," he grinds out, "to _prevent_ this kind of thing."

"Yes, father."

Ah! Did I really say that?! It just slipped out- I mentally panic but keep a calm front.

He turns slowly, furious now. "You idiot!" he says loudly, "I'm not your father, understand?" he slammed his hand down on the desk, punctuating the last word. I flinched. "I found you during the last war," he continued, more calmly, "you were an orphan so I took you in." He looked disgusted with me. "You're dismissed."

I look forward, concentrating on a spot just above my father's- no, Duke Red's right shoulder. "Yes," I said, almost inaudible, and walked stiffly out, feeling that the guards were laughing at me every step of the way. But my resolve was stronger now- I'd clearly heard the word "tonight" in reference to the lab. I'd thought on this for a long time.

It must be done. The machine must be destroyed to bring my sister peace at last, and then my father will see it for what it is and no longer hate me so. The metal mockery is not allowed to exist.

I laugh, not an entirely sane laugh, as I walk alone through artificial elegance.


	4. Heart

A/N: Metropolis still not mine, story still dark. Ja. I haven't gotten the dialog right here... It's just paraphrasing, really. Oh, and profanity warning for this chapter (do I really _have_ to warn for the F-word? Might as well, I suppose.)

Reviewers: Moonlit: Don't worry, I'm not giving up on ATFOA, just trying to get my plot sorted out a bit (^_^). Stagsleap: Thank you! (*^_^*)

Necessary

  


The celebrations are perfect cover. I waited near the doors, pretending to do my rounds while watching for him, my father, to emerge. Every time I look around, people are crowding me and swarming like insects- but I can just scowl at them and they back away from my mirrored gaze and red uniform.

I wonder, sometimes, why people never really seem to see _me_, only the Marduk band on my arm. When I went to school, a long time ago, after I'd been adopted by Duke Red and had just begun my training, the other children were... Well, not kind, but tolerant. We spoke civilly enough and some were warming up to me, though I obviously didn't come from their world of privilege. We might even have become friends, if given time.

Then came the day my training progressed far enough to warrant giving me a uniform. Of course, I didn't have to wear the whole thing when off-duty, just the armband... So the next day I went to school with the green band of a low-ranking Marduk tied to my shirt, a light jacket overtop to stop the coolness of fast-approaching autumn.

You should have seen their faces when I took off that coat. The children, even some of the teachers backed away like I had the plague. I was confused, and tried to talk to a boy who'd been almost my friend. He looked disgusted and half-afraid, yelled at me to "Fucking leave me alone" and ran. The children stayed away, the teachers pretended any chair with me in it was empty or filled with something disgusting and beneath contempt. It was years later that I learned why.

Duke Red, deciding I needed to toughen up, had told all the teachers that I'd been enrolled in Marduk training to curb my violent impulses, and that I'd killed a grown man with my bare hands. Naturally they'd passed the false information on to the students, though no one had believed it at first. At least, not until they saw the band on my arm. (Truthfully, yes, I had killed a man once, but it was a complete accident and I was only four at the time- trying to get rid of the raider teams who followed the bombs. One had come after me, but I'd clipped his temple with a badly-aimed rock- he fell backwards, through what was once a window frame, and twenty floors straight down into the rubble)

So effectively, my life was a living hell from third grade onwards. I learned to hide emotion and bury the pain of rejection- though secretly, I'd rejoiced when when "accidents" befell my classmates. Nothing deadly, but enough to break bones. I admired my father from afar for teaching me this... Friends are worthless, and revenge is much more gratifying anyway.

I snapped out of memory as Duke Red approached, heading for the immense limo in front of the Ziggurat. I know where he's going, and I know the shortcuts one can take to get there faster than a car. After all, the vehicles can't take the lifts, can they?

Walking towards the lab, I felt a shiver of fear. I'd seen too many things there to have any semblance of calm, and replaced my fear with anger. Righteousness. Revenge for my sister's death. With those thoughts in mind, I climbed the outside wall and entered through an access port. It afforded an excellent view of this atrocity against life, and I settled down to wait.

It wasn't long before Duke Red, trailing two bodyguards, approached. They were bathed in greenish light outside the lab, and gleaming gold within, just the way my father should be. I peered through the hole I'd made in the metal, watching as My father and that horrible-

My hand twitches for my gun, something it does often in Laughton's presence. Blood pounds in my ears, and I just barely catch something about the mockery of my sister not yet being complete. My father leaves, and Laughton and I are left alone in the lab. Now is my chance. Revenge awaits.

I felt my lips curl into a feral smile and clambered down to the metal deck quickly and quietly, as befits a Marduk. My feet took me forward, and it felt like I had no control over myself. I watched the facsimile of Tima floating there in underlit fluid, nestled in glowing wire.

The despicable man is talking to me, but I don't really hear the words, nor my own response. Part of me is answering him, but most is locked in a mixture of despair and fierce joy. He mentions something about Tima, and something inside snaps. 

"Just shut up!" I yell at him, not feeling especially sane. Then I pull out the gun.

"Y- you're going to shoot her?!" he says, incredulous. I stare straight ahead, revolver trembling in tormented hands. Looking at her, Tima's face, eyes closed sweetly in sleep...

I can't do it. I just can't. 

But the awful man continues. "She's my life's work! Modeled after Duke Red's own daughter, you know!"

All sanity I had left deserted me at that moment. I turn slowly to face him, aiming for the heart. I get a moment of pleasure watching him squirm, as if his arms could ward off the bullet. Then I fire.

Spinning around, I shoot at anything that looks flammable. Fuel spills and electricity crackles, arcing overhead. I almost feel happy at the carnage in my sister's name, earning her a quiet rest through revenge against those who wronged her.

In the destruction, I pause for a moment. "Gods," I pray silently, "please, help me free my father from the evil of machines."

Perhaps he'll love me now.


	5. Vision

A/N: Apologies. I've taken so long with all of this thanks to my computer dying and writer's block (ATFOA isn't dead, just needs a good kick...) but hopefully this chapter heralds a new age of fanfic-writing quickness (really, I'm sorry...) But on with the fic. 

Warnings and disclaimer: We've been through this already, haven't we?

Reviewers: Moro Stagsleap (*Smiles*. Love you!) and Kaitourei (Yes, I'm going to go all the way through the movie. I just got delayed for a while.) 

*********  


Necessary

  


I killed a man.

I couldn't stop thinking it, the thought going around and around in my head and staining as deeply as the blood on my clothes. I killed a man, and I'm not sorry. The way he cowered and squirmed, blood cutting an arc through the air, still makes me feel sick- But- What's wrong with me? I had to, it was necessary, but still- What's _wrong_? I almost... _enjoyed_ it. 

I don't remember much of the flight from the burning lab, only looking back once as it began to implode. Nearly caught by a civilian as I came out, I skidded up a steep stairway of stained concrete- The roads home passed in a blur of neon and cement. I'd fallen into bed still dressed and smeared with soot, boots and glasses somewhere on the floor. It was a brief, blissful descent into oblivion for a few sweet hours, forgetting all that had happened...

"...Rock!" 

I mumbled something and rolled over, too tired to move from my nice soft bed. 

"Rock! What _happened_ to you?! Duke Red can't see you like this!"

_That_ got my attention. My eyes snapped open and I shot up, staring wildly around. When I saw it was just a Marduk, I relaxed slightly. 

"What are you doing here?" I asked, wary. It was a new recruit, his hair falling over one eye in a strange manner. Preoccupied as I was, it didn't seem possible to remember his name. Vaguely, I could recall talking to him the day before.

The Marduk shifted from foot to foot, nervous in the commander's private rooms, though they were little different from the barracks. The only difference I'd ever seen was the lack of roommates and red sheets instead of blue. He cleared his throat and my attention moved back to him.

"I..." his voice squeaked, "I was sent to fetch you by Duke Red. He wants you in his office by- er- Eleven O'clock this morning."

I cocked my head to the side. "That's all?"

He blushed and stammered. "Y- yes. But sir-"

"What?"

"It's Ten forty-five..."

*********************  
  


I stood in front of my mirror a scant five minutes later, not having moved since I sent the boy packing with a few _extremely_ creative death threats. He'd gone (quickly) and I'd rushed to find a change of clothes but caught sight of myself reflected-

I couldn't look away. 

I was streaked with soot, scraped, and there was a flaky patch of red-brown marring my shirt that I really didn't want to think about. I knew if I checked the bed they'd be there too... Dirty reminders of what I'd done. Visions of the last night started to come back to me, tainting my vision with blood-red flame and mocking green eyes, a man's last cry of pain...

Suddenly unable to stand, I pitched forward, crumpling against the glassed wall panel. Harsh breaths made my body shudder as I fought nausea, and I closed my eyes to a vision of a green gaze watching me with indifferent malice. She smiled, cruelly, and I could see the wires snaking beneath her porcelain skin. 

Tima, my sister, creature of a warped mind, knelt and cupped my chin in a sparking hand.

She leaned close, and another Tima, one of flesh and blood, wet crimson staining her dress around a bullet hole I knew would be there, leaned in from behind. I could feel their breath, both ice cold, on my skin. They smiled and whispered as one.

"All your fault," they said, mockingly, "all your fault, _brother_."

I clutched my head and screamed.

*****************  
**********  


Dark stars swirled overhead, painting a pattern that made me giddy as a voice called from far away. I had the strange sensation of sinking, and watched my hands begin to be consumed by the tarry black ooze I was perched upon. In perfect calm, I watched it lace up my arm and pull down, preparing to drown me. I didn't mind.

A strange sensation jarred back and forth and I closed my eyes as my teeth knocked together, opening them to that same Marduk standing over me, shaking my shoulders and panicking when I wouldn't wake. 

"Unh..." I said, inarticulate. He immediately stopped.

"Sir!" he cried, "are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Ugh," I said, putting a hand to my head and standing uncertainly, "I don't know..." 

Trying to step towards the door my knee buckled, and I half-fell before the Marduk caught me. As he helped me over to sit on my bed, I decided to make it a point to know my Marduk's names from now on. I couldn't just keep calling him "Marduk", could I?

As I was thinking, he straightened up. "Is something wrong with you, sir?" he asked, worriedly, "are you sick?"

I looked up. "Possibly," I said, weary, "possibly." 

"An- anything you need?"

"Uh," I racked my addled brains for something I knew I'd forgotten. Ah, yes. "Could you pass me a clean uniform?"

He looked at me strangely. "What's wrong with that one?" he asked, confused. I'd given him an equally strange look back. Couldn't he see the streaks of soot and blood not my own? I stood to point those out to him, then caught a glimpse of myself in the treacherous mirror.

There was nothing marking me, my uniform clean as new.

I cast one confused look back at the Marduk, who reciprocated, and left to see my father.


	6. Feeling

A/N: Metropolis still doesn't belong to me. How unfair.

Reviewers: Kaitourei- ^_^! Moonlit- ^-^! Debs- ^o^! 

I love you all! 

  


Necessary

  


The hall seemed to sway for a moment as I knocked on Duke Red's doors, and I steadied myself on the frame. I shook my head- Something was getting to me, possibly the lack of sleep.

Duke Red stood at the window, surveying the sprawling city. He had an altogether strange expression on his face, and I was suddenly seized by the urge to confess to my murder if only he'd accept me... But without turning, he cut off my train of thought.

"Rock," he said, his voice heavy with some undecipherable emotion, "you have no doubt heard by now of the arsonist's attack last night?"

The nervous part of me seizes up and I jerk faintly, but my cool facade is already slipping into place.

"Yes," I said, lying smoothly, "a warehouse in Zone one, wasn't it? Not really our concern."

He scrutinized me for a moment, and I felt a cold sweat break out along my spine. _/This is not good definitely not good-/_

"Yes," he said, turning back, and I let out the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "Are you familiar with the area?"

I sensed danger, but sidestepped. "Yes..." I said, "I've heard reports of some sort of mad scientist living in the area. We've had complaints of children disappearing in the area as well." I took a chance- "Hmm... I wonder if the two are connected?" I watched my father carefully, rewarded with a sudden tension in his shoulders. "Well," I continued indifferently, "If it was the mad scientist's lab- Laughton, I think his name was? He's no big loss. He was wanted on several counts in at least seven countries."

Duke Red shuddered almost imperceptibly, leaning forward. I decided to press the point.

"You..." I hazarded, innocent, "didn't have dealings with him, did you, Father?" 

I saw the anger in him as he turned to me. "Shut up," he growled coldly, "shut up and get out. You are not my son."

Knowing that tone all too well, I leave sadly. That's the voice that usually precedes a beating, usually after I've antagonized him like this... But he loves me, I know it. The pain is just a focus for my improvement. I half-turn, looking at my father with the understanding and sympathy I know he so rarely gets and dearly needs.

It is wasted. He does not look back.

As I leave, he puts his hands on the glass in a gesture of frustration and sadness. I wonder, wistfully, whether he mourns for my sister or myself, dead on the inside.


	7. Knowing

A/N: Does anyone actually read this? -_-; Ahh, anyway, I don't own Metropolis, but wold be grateful for reviews.

  
  


Necessary

  
  


I surveyed the destruction with an impressed eye. 

The fresh barrier of police tape ringed the lab, and the fire had made a mountain of charcoal from what was once so tainted. From the pure black coal and white ash it was almost difficult to remember the twisted parody.

I could breathe easier now that it was gone, but something still seemed off. Even in a fire so large a bit of it should have remained- a metal skeleton of sorts, but none had been found. The scrawny little divisional police chief Ham and egg (Everyone called him that, though no one could quite figure out why.) was behind me, trailing every step I made as I searched. Stifling a condescending snigger as he caught his foot on the police tape and nearly fell flat on his horrible mustache, I wondered if it was because of the resemblance- runny as eggs and slow as a pig. 

I choked off a laugh and ducked behind a jagged mountain of debris. The mental image alone was terrible- An undersize pig in a policeman's cap, jiggling his mustache as his snout quivered, covered in oozing, runny egg and mud. 

I'd just managed to get myself back under control as the man himself rounded the corner. He looked irritated, and my mental pig oinked indignantly. 

"Well," he said in his oily way, "have you found what you're hunting for?"

"No," I said, trying not to picture the pig talking, "still looking."

He looked conniving, and tried to be subtle. "If you told me what you were looking for," he oozed, "I could help..."

Thankful for my dark glasses, I rolled my eyes at him. _/Pig... Oink oink oink./ _

"It's classified," I lied calmly, "Marduk business." And continued on my way.

We came to a sort of pit in the ground, him chasing behind. It was ringed in crumpled metal plates and broken wire, and that was where I felt the first real misgivings.

"Ham and Egg," I said, forcing myself not to think about the name, "where does this pit lead to? There's running water at the bottom."

He thought for a moment, something that looked like a rare feat. "Well," he answered finally, "It goes through Zone two, then to waste treatment in Zone three."

I stared down, wondering. "Could a human survive the journey?"

"Nah," he laughed roughly, "they'd be chopped up and liquified a dozen times first."

"Only if they were a normal human..." I murmured, half to myself. The pig didn't seem to hear. 

_/Brother.../_

I turned sharply at the faint voice. Nothing.

_/Bro-therrr.../_

At the peak of the debris, there was the briefest flash of golden hair and gauzy fabric, then... Gone. I stared at the spot, my mouth partially open.

"Hey," said the little man, and I was brought back to reality, "what are you staring at?"

"I-" I began, then stopped, "did you see-?" 

Looking up again, there was nothing but twisted metal girders and ash. I shook my head at the strangeness. "Never mind," I said, "just- never mind. We're going to zone three."

He recoiled slightly, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Zone three?" he said, disdain evident, "what for?"

"We are," I gave him my most menacing glare, "and I know Duke Red paid you to stick at my heels all day. Now come on, we're going."

We left for the level slide lifts, the little pig squealing at every step.

*******************

"You never get used to the smell down here," remarked Ham and Egg, staring around in distaste. I looked at him in contempt. Couldn't say I disagreed, but what good would it do to complain? 

In zone three, people never came if they could avoid it. As a consequence there was filth in every corner and the ever-present television screens showed nothing but sparking snow. We walked along a sort of balcony that I suppose could be used for surveying the inner workings of the city, if anyone was ever crazy enough to brave the stench of the processing plant. It was deserted, but the level below the balcony was dotted with several Albert I and IIs. They shifted back and forth, eternally polishing and cleaning- but wait.

A shock of blonde hair. Could that be-?

I wavered for a moment in utter shock, almost having to grab the railing to stay standing up. My sister... she couldn't possibly be...

_/Brother.../_

The voice in my head whispered softly, wrapping itself around my senses.

_/Brother... Brother, brotherbrotherbrotheryouhaveforgottenme.../_

"No..." I whispered, and was only barely aware of Ham and Egg at my elbow, yelling down at the children on the processing floor. I noticed the oddly familiar boy beside her. Where had I seen him before?

_/You have forgotten me brother, she still lives, she is not real.../_

I can feel a hand on my shoulder I know isn't there, and pull out my gun. The mockery on the factory floor cannot be allowed to exist. I know that with every fiber of my being. 

Sighting them, I fire. Once, twice, three times, but no hit. I'm too far away for accuracy...

"What are you _doing?_" yelled Ham and Egg, "you can't shoot them!"

_/Brother/_

I bring up my arm.

_/Brother, he is stopping you.../_

"Stop," I whisper, unsure who I'm talking to, "this isn't right..."

_/do it./_

My arm, on its own, presses the metal against the policeman's stomach, just under the rib cage.

"Stop it," I think, but it doesn't reach my lips. The words stay echoing around my head.

_/avenge me, brother./_

I fire, and watch his body plummet in slow motion to the metal below. It's so tiny from here... Insignificant. A slow smile flickered across my face, and I turned and ran after my prey.

_/run,/ _I thought, a bloodthirsty joy coursing through me, _/run, children, and I will catch you./_

I felt my sister's approval at every step, her gentle hands resting on my shoulders. A red haze clouded my eyes, but it didn't matter- I existed only to destroy the creature. We fell behind for a moment at the level lifts, but their lead was temporary. As soon as the elevator came down again I shot the Albert II working the controls and went up.

The chase lasts a long time, and I don't remember most of it. There are confused impressions of guns and heat and exhaustion from running, a point-blank shot to the head of a robot, a crowd of protesters... My next clear memory is standing at a junkyard with my Marduks searching, and the ghostly whisper of promises at my ear.

_/Brother,/_ she said, and laughed.


	8. Creation

A/N: Honestly, people- do you realize that this is the first update to the section in nearly a month? Talk about your slow fandoms! (-_-) (The author acknowledges her own slowness as well). No real notes this time, save that my english midterm's short story was a bit of metropolis fandom without names in it. (go me. Have scored high on that test. ^_^)

  
  


Necessary

  
  


Things were blurred for a time.

There was work and preparations for the Marduk parade (The finishing touch on the Ziggurat's completion celebration), the normal and routine jobs of constant patrol and surveillance, the approaching stirrings of revolution- But I couldn't concentrate on anything for any length of time. Time sped and slowed of its own volition. I'd sit down for breakfast then find myself inexplicably in zone one, talk to one of my Marduks and (where had the day gone?) suddenly find it after two in the morning as I stared at the sparse stars outshone by city glare through my bedroom window. I slept little and ate less. 

I was losing my tenuous grip on reality until the news came in: The Revolution had begun.

Things sped up. The Marduks were deployed to fight the militants, a small pocket of order in the face of Chaos. The history books no doubt will record the failed coup as just that, a failure masterminded by a half-cocked commander, a mindless, undirected mob.

But I tell you, we fought and paid in blood for every inch of ground we gained. Duke Red, now officially in charge of Metropolis due to President Boone's unfortunate "deposition" and Mayor Leon's complete cowardice, did not mobilize the ground troops nor the air force until we had gained nearly three kilometers of city. These rebels, whoever they were, were no inexperienced crowd. Each and every one of them threw molotov cocktails with unerring accuracy and fired into the confusion created. The battle was loud and blinding and things were blurring again, when one moment the enemy was far away and the next I was in the fray with someone else's blood spattered across my face.

I looked at my hands in that odd quiet moment and they were as crimson as the ground. In looking up, I thought I saw a hint of honey-blonde hair and the briefest of smiles, but I could be wrong. The whole city is in chaos, what's one more little girl that looks like her? She's dead, dead and gone.

Reminding myself does not ease the sudden foreboding and quick image of falling and flame I have in my head. Then time regains its hold, pushes forward, and I am too busy to think.

*******************

The battle has ended.

People dead, dying and praying for the death that will be a long time in coming line the streets. I slip sideways, out of the smell of charred flesh and pooling blood mixed with oil and crackling electricity, and into Bel square. It is cold here and the snow bites fiercely with the smoke, but at least I can see the sky, washed-out thing that it is. 

The bitterly cold snow bites into me and crunches under my boots. I make my way forward, slowly, watching the fallen around me. A man the same age as I (slightly older, perhaps?) slumps against a pillar, breathing in faint gasps and pressing a spread hand to a blood-soaked shirt. A boy runs to him, his brother perhaps? I wonder how they ever got into this mess. And on their right...

Gold... No, is it?! She, no, IT is right there! How can they not sense her wrongness? The short, plump man standing near places a comforting hand on her shoulder, and I wonder that his hand does not burn at the touch. I draw my gun, still warm from the last use.

It is confusion and gunfire and blood and ends and beginnings all in those few seconds but one thing, one moment is encased forever in crystal before shattering-

My _Father_- He-

He can't do this-

Blind to her wrongness, I will make him see.


End file.
